A New Life
by thedarkesthorcrux
Summary: Sirius's death hurt Harry more than everyone knew. This, coupled with his nightmarish life at the Dursley's, sends Harry over the edge; he snaps and runs straight into American hunters who seem to be...his family? SLASH (Harry/(secret for now)).
1. The journey begins

A New Life

Summary: Sirius's death hurt Harry more than everyone knew. This, coupled with his nightmarish life at the Dursley's, sends Harry over the edge; he snaps and runs straight into American hunters who...are his family? SLASH (Harry/?).

 _Authors Note: Yes, yes, so cliché. I know. I could not help myself. This is my first crossover and long fanfiction. If you look at my cringy-ass profile you can tell I'm new to the writing part of this and my older stories were written by me at like 12 years old. Sorry. I have a lot of work ahead of me now._

 _Toodles~_

* * *

Harry lay on his bed, unblinking. If one were to look closer, they would see his red-rimmed eyes and the beginnings of a dark bruise that stained his otherwise porcelain face, marring his boyish features.

Less than two weeks ago Harry had been happy. He had two amazing friends and a Godfather. He had lost it all in one fell swoop.

Harry turned on his side gingerly. His nightmares plagued every sleeping moment; his uncle every waking moment- unfortunately for the entirety of the Dursley household.

Uncle Vernon lost his job early in the summer- straight after Harry returned, unwillingly, to the tender-loving-care of his relatives. Of course, this had been blamed on the Freak who had been, rightfully, put in his place by his cousin and Uncle while his Aunt lovingly prepared dinner for her two boys. To add insult to injury, Harry had still been expected to finish his chore list which grew increasingly worse each passing day.  
He didn't even get a break at night when he was supposed to be resting. Flashes of memories from the department of mysteries tormented him every time he closed his eyes. When he finally succumbed to his utter exhaustion, and injuries, things weren't much better.

Every night without fail he would awaken at least once, screaming out for Sirius. This had the unfortunate outcome of waking the Dursleys who were less than impressed at the Freak thus earning him more punishments bestowed by the whale known as his uncle.

Tonight was one of the few nights where his uncle had decided to give him a light punishment, or simply didn't have the energy to inflict pain.

Harry was sick of it all. He wanted out. Out of the horrifying war. Out of his life as the live-in servant and punch bag of his family.

Downstairs, Harry heard his Uncle screaming at the cricket on TV. His cousin was out at a friend's house (Read: Hanging out on the street corner with his mates while smoking a joint.) It would be funny when his aunt, who believed her precious Dudders could do no wrong, found out about her son's deviance. No doubt it would be quickly swept under the rug and blamed on him again.

His uncle called for another beer and Petunia hastily walked to retrieve the alcohol to avoid the potential ire of her husband.  
Vernon was a mean drunk and it was unfortunate that that's all he ever seemed to be lately. He had been unable to get a job as most companies were looking for young applicants. Again, Harry had been blamed.

His lonely life at the Dursleys was infinitely worse without his only companion, Hedwig. She had been left at Hogwarts with the other owls so she could happily hunt when she liked. Usually, Ron or Hermione would take her but two-thirds of the golden trio had dulled and turned away. Or maybe it was one-third. Harry couldn't really blame the couple as they had gotten hurt while trying to help him against the empty threat of Sirius's torture. After their botched rescue, both Ron and Hermione took special pains to avoid him. Ron was suspiciously absent from the dorm when Harry was awake and cleared off sometime early morning to prevent being interrogated by the enraged brunet who had just lost his last family member. The cowardly red-head had even tempted Hermione, who had escaped unscathed, over to his side. But that was okay, better now than later when he was in serious trouble.  
Another roar from downstairs jolted the petite teen from his sullen thoughts causing him to wince in pain as his body physically jolted sending vibrations down his chest to his sore ribs.

Breathing through the pain, he snapped. He'd had enough.  
It was slow going but the teenager rolled to the edge of his bed and attempted to stand. It took several attempts to just stand up. Overcoming the dizziness, most likely from malnutrition, blood loss and exhaustion, he took small steps over to the loose floorboard where his wand, invisibility cloak, wand and album laid. Along with his most prized possessions, Harry had managed to slip a couple galleons into his room before his school stuff was locked away in his cupboard under the stairs just in case he needed to get away. It was around 8 pm. He wouldn't have long to wait now. His plan: to escape. Most likely take the knight bus to Gringotts then find somewhere, preferably outside of Britain. He couldn't stand the pressures and heartbreaking sense of loss that hung around like muggy air after a thunderstorm.  
Hobbling back over to his bed, Harry decided once more to look through his photo album knowing that it was likely he would have to leave it behind when he made his escape. It was far too large for his pockets and would hold him back in the long run.  
Intent on finding one image to take, Harry perched on the end of his bed, away from the creaking springs that dug into his soft flesh.  
He knew the album almost of by heart by now. There were a few people whom he still didn't know but it was mostly pictures of his smiling parents. Blissfully gazing into each other's eyes.  
The end of the album held the most intriguing photo of all. Another young couple. One brunet, one blonde. The blond, the female, was holding Baby Harry while the husband held a much older looking toddler. He must have been about three years old while Harry, if the back of the picture was dated properly, was about 5 months old. The other child was grinning at the camera, green eyes gleaming delightedly. More information told him that the photo had been taken in a place called Lawrence, Kansas. Most likely in the USA then, Harry mused to himself.  
Hagrid hadn't known this couple at all so they were unlikely to have gone to Hogwarts and, as the picture didn't move, Harry assumed they were muggles.  
He longed to know more but no one he asked knew a thing about the two. The photo had been found and retrieved from the ruins of Godric's Hollow.  
Of all the photos he had, this one stuck out the most. Carefully, Harry removed it from the protective pocket and slipped it into the pocket of his over large jeans.

At precisely 10 o'clock, the TV downstairs turned off and his uncle's heavy footsteps resounded through the whole house as he lumbered up the stairs. Quickly, Harry hid his items just under his bed for easy access in case his uncle decided to dole out one last minute punishment however, he needn't have bothered. The footsteps thumped outside of his room but continued without a pause to the bathroom, his aunts' tinier steps barely heard behind.  
Obviously, a good result on the cricket then. Harry knew what followed this and so did Dudley hence his disappearance.  
The toilet flushed and Vernon, faster than before, walked to the master bedroom. Petunia close behind. The door closed with a bang and the noises started.  
Happy, but slightly disgusted, that the two were now preoccupied, Harry grabbed his cloak, wand and money and stealthily walked over to the door, inching it open cautiously. The dull throbbing in his arm intensified and it took all of Harrys' being not to cry out or whimper. There was a pause in the action in the master bedroom and Harry prayed that he hadn't been heard. His prayers were granted after a tense 40 seconds when the action resumed and so did his attempts to leave. He didn't bother trying to close his door, it was his uncle's fault for forgetting to lock him in.  
The stairs were the hardest part due to their creakiness caused by the immense weight it was forced to deal with daily. Skipping the creakiest steps, Harry finally made it downstairs where he knew it was unlikely his aunt and uncle would hear him opening the front door yet he was still careful.

A tense 5 minutes later, Harry was free! He had decided to catch the bus from the nearby park, a few streets away, rather than outside of number 4 Privet Drive.  
He raised his wand and prepared for the clatter of the bus that would soon appear. Less than a second later it arrived and Harry, "Neville", had successfully bought a ticket to the Leaky cauldron for a mere 9 sickles.  
The next ten minutes were the longest and most painful of the summer and his injuries were jostled around in the eccentric bus.  
He was grateful when the journey ended and gladly stepped off the bus, once more on his guard. The ministry had known in Third year when Harry ran away, would they know now?  
Obviously, they didn't care anymore. He walked through the old pub with his head down to prevent being recognised by any fans.  
Easily letting himself into the alley, the teen relaxed and headed for the goblin-run bank.

About four hours later, Harry stumbled out of the bank overwhelmed. Upon entering the bank, he had been accosted by Griphook and several other goblins who harried him to a private room.  
"W- What?" He barely had time to stutter out before a large ledger was placed in front of him as he was pushed into a comfy armchair.  
"Lord Potter," The Goblin started, ignoring his stammering, "We have been waiting for you."  
It was a simple statement but it sent chills down his spine.  
The Goblin carried on, uncaring. "We have sent you many letters starting from your eighth birthday."  
Harry cast a look of disbelief at the goblin. All of this over what? A misdirected letter?  
He went to explain how he had never received a single letter from the bank when he was, again, ignored and spoken over.  
"We realised after your return to the wizarding world that you had no intention of ever responding to us. Unfortunately, it's more important now than ever that you get this information."  
The creature stopped for a breath and this is where harry cut in, angrily. "I never received a single letter and what could possibly be so important! I only learnt of this world at eleven and the only letters I have received have either been from Hogwarts or from my friends." He panted from exertion and winced as his ribs made themselves known once more.

For a moment, he could have sworn that he saw a flicker of concern on the creatures' gnarled face before it passed and indifference settled on his face.

"It matters not. You're here now so we will sort it out. First, your lordship must be discussed. As of the death of Sirius Black, you have inherited the Black Lordship in addition to the Potter, Gaunt and Flamel Lordships you already had. Now –. "

Harry cut the goblin off with a small noise of protest.

"What Lordships?" Harry had never heard of such a thing and didn't even recognise all the names he had been told belonged to him.

"There must be some mistake. Anyway, Sirius would have told me."

The goblin looked disapproving down at the short wizard who was, indeed, shorter than most of the goblins at the bank.  
"Well, sir. If you let me continue, I could have explained it to you. It is obvious that you have been sheltered from this by your magical guardian and while this is frowned upon it was probably for the better. Albus Dumbledore does know what he is doing after all."  
At this, several of the other goblins in the office looked disapproving at Griphook. They must not see eye-to-eye then. Harry mused to himself.  
He was honestly unsure about how he felt about Dumbledore. The esteemed headmaster seemed to be kind and grandfatherly towards him but had a scary side that Harry himself had seen just the once in the Department of Mysteries.  
To make matters worse, Harry was unsure whether he trusted this powerful entity. He just seemed far too manipulative and naïve- he hadn't believed Harry when he had claimed that the Dursleys didn't treat him right. Unwilling to believe that family could hurt one another, he had easily sent Harry back to his hellish life.  
Even at Hogwarts Harry hadn't felt safe. For one of the safest places in the world, Hogwarts surely was a death trap. It felt almost planned hence why Harry considered the possibility that maybe Dumbledore had planned it all. The easy acceptance from the goblin of Dumbledore's questionable behaviour rubbed Harry the wrong way. There was no way he could fully trust the headmaster or anyone who so easily followed him.

Looking around at the goblins who seemed to disapprove of Griphook, he made the decision.  
"I don't really trust Albus Dumbledore." He stated with as much disdain as he could possibly muster for one sentence.

An awkward air permeated the atmosphere for one long minute before Griphook got up, looked around him and left finding no support. He was followed by two burly, angry goblins who, Harry only just noticed, were both armed with a large, obsidian dagger and shield. He didn't envy Griphook one bit.  
A new goblin walked forward and sat at the desk that had been occupied by Griphook.

"We're glad. To be perfectly honest Albus isn't exactly a friend of the goblin nation. My name is Bloodclaw. Now then, to business!"

The next hour consisted of Harry going through his estates and inherited lordships. He really was loaded.

What came next was just as overwhelming.

Apparently, Harry hadn't inherited the Potter vault from his father. No, he had inherited it from his step-father.

James Potter had been rendered infertile when he was injured by a dark curse. This had almost ruined his parents' marriage as his mother had been insistent on having a child.

The two had turned to an American clinic in hopes of some new surgery being able to help Lily conceive. They hadn't been lucky until they ran into a couple with a child who, at the time had been about one-and-a-half years old. Lily had been enamoured by the child with green eyes and decided that she wanted them to carry her child. All it took were a few charms and the couple had gotten pregnant. Nine months later Lily had returned to the couple who, due to compulsion charms, didn't realise the child was theirs. He honestly felt so bad for the couple. According to Bloodclaw, their names had been Mary and John Winchester. Mary was deceased. Having never known his mother, he had got his hopes up at getting to know her, his true mother. Unfortunately, that had been stolen from him before he could even fantasise about it. Luckily, he had at least one sibling and a father alive.

Harry had been that child. Stolen right from underneath his true parents by a desperate woman.

It was unfathomable- how had he not known? Surely Sirius or Remus would've known something.

All Harry knew now was that he was going away. To America.

* * *

Aaaaaaannnnd done! I am in the middle of the second chapter. If this gets favourable reviews then I shall continue it. :) That being said, please give me constructive feedback if possible. I know I'm not the best at this yet but I want to improve so please help me with that! 3


	2. One step closer, three steps back

_Authors note:_

 _Okay, I know nothing about America. I'm actually from the UK and, although I did my best to research this, there are bound to be many mistakes. So anyth_ _ing_ that's _really wrong, please tell me and I'll fix it but if it's small, just call it my "Artistic license". XD_

 _Please note, this will not be updated as quickly as I have managed as I have work and stuff. I'm a young carer so anytime I'm not working I help my mother so I don't have much time to write hence why this chapter is a bit shorter. :)_

 _And_ mygod ju _st saying, THANK YOU to everyone. This story already has 62 freaking follows. That's insane!_

 _Also, looking for a Beta if anyone's interested. :)_

* * *

Getting a wizard passport and boarding a flight to America was the least of his problems. The biggest one: What to do once he got there.

Before leaving, a goblin had roughly shoved a dusty tome into Harrys' arms before wishing him "Good luck!" and scurrying away uncharacteristically.

Utterly flabbergasted Harry had decided to wait until he was on his flight to America, more specifically Kansas, before opening the dusty book and flicking interestedly to the first page.

Needless to say, Harry was horrified. America was host to many supernatural creatures he hadn't even heard of. To make matters worse, vigilante hunters went around killing anything unhuman, witches included. As far as Harry could tell, there were no natural-borns living in America. If the book was to be believed, this was due to the magic of America. So easily corrupted, regular wizarding creatures turned evil and bloodthirsty within hours of entering the USA. Luckily, witches and wizards were left with their humanity intact however it was still dangerous to live there due to hunters shooting first in most cases.

After a long eighteen-hour flight consisting of worried glances by flight staff of such a young child travelling alone and horrifying books, Harry touched down at Kansas City International Airport.

He had done some research and found that there had been a clinic nearby that had most likely been the one his mother thought of visiting. If the information on the back of the photo was to be believed, the couple also lived nearby.

A quick glance at a nearby travel guide told him that it was a mere hour trip to Lawrence, Kansas.

Bloodclaw had been rather helpful in directing him towards a flight and how to get a passport but had been woefully vague on how to reach the Winchesters from that point. Secretly, Harry thought that maybe the proud goblin hadn't known and tried to hide it.

In the end, the small teen had resorted to using American phone books that were oddly abundant in Gringotts to locate an address for his wayward family. Sure enough, there was only one family in Lawrence that had the name Winchester in the 1980's. This was where he would start the search for his family.  
Obviously, before leaving the goblin-run bank, Harry had been advised to exchange some currency for American dollars. Unknowing of the cost of living in America, he had chosen to simply exchange 500 Galleons to $ 3675 and get an international wizarding debit card. The card itself had cost around 5 galleons but it was money well spent in Harry's opinion.

He had paid by card for the plane ticket so had easily been able to afford the $130 fare for a taxi to the Winchester house in Lawrence.  
Upon arrival, Harry found an empty house. He hadn't expected the Winchesters to still live there really but it would have helped majorly. Harry had no choice but to see if any of the locals had kept contact with his family after they moved.  
Door-to-door Harry went for a good hour before he found someone who remembered the Winchesters. They had recently been in town according to a nice middle-aged man who introduced himself as "Mike". The two got chatting for a while and it was found that Mike had once known John Winchester. He seemed oddly suspicious of Harry for some reason and refused to tell him where the family currently lived.  
With no leads, Harry gave up for the day and checked himself into the nearest motel for the night. The stale sheets and lumpy mattress were still nicer than his bed at the Dursleys and it had been quite cheap for just a one-night stay.

He slept well despite his numerous injuries making themselves known as he tossed and turned to find a comfier spot. Luckily for Harry, most of his injuries were kept away from his face and arms with exception of one dark bruise that marred his features. Just one bruise would be easily played off and Harry was lucky that Vernon had some sense to keep the kicks away from his face, it made it much easier for him anyway. Harry doubted that his father would be willing to listen to him let alone agree to take him in if he had many noticeable bruises. They were a sign of his freakishness.

When morning finally came Harry got ready to go out searching. Instead of asking around, Harry was going to use a computer for research. Unfortunately, Harry had never used a computer before; Dudley had never allowed him to give in a 1-meter radius of his desktop and technology didn't work around magic at the best of times.

He started the day at an internet café, intent on using a computer there after having some breakfast. The shop was rather small and boasted 5 computers for use to anyone who purchased some food. It was early enough that only one of the computers were in use.

As Harry walked in, a waitress came over to take his order. He was rather surprised at how quickly he was sat and presented with a menu. Harry ordered a quick bacon sandwich and a tap water from the waitress who wrote his order down and promised to bring it to him as soon as possible.

Less than half an hour later Harry had eaten and made his way over to the computer. Obviously, he knew his basic stuff like "Google" is what he needed to use. He awkwardly watched the person next to him to work out how to use the computer and caught on easily.

John Winchester was strangely absent on the internet. It took Harry all of three hours to find one mention of the man. It had been an article about a house fire which had killed his wife but he and his two sons had managed to escape unscathed.  
After that Harry had only been able to find the name of someone who seemed to be a friend of his. It was on an odd website that looked as if it hadn't been looked at in years. All Harry knew was that he was going to find this man in the hopes that he could get hold of the Winchester family.

A bit more researching later and Harry found himself a bus trip that would be able to take him directly to Sioux Falls. Searching up information on Bobby "Robert" Singer had been a lot easier than suspected. It would seem that he owned a salvage yard and worked as a mechanic in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. This "Bobby" was his best bet at reconnecting with his family.  
The bus was set to arrive at 1 pm so Harry had a few hours to kill yet with it only being 11AM. Rather than exploring, and possibly getting lost, Harry decided it would be a better idea to simply do more research.

The hours passed quickly and Harry barely made it to the bus on time for departure. Harry sat alone amid the few strangers who were also taking this trip. At the back of the bus sat a middle-aged man with a small goatee. He had scruffy brown hair and shifty, squinting blue eyes. When he noticed Harry looking at him he smirked, looking Harry up and down while shifting awkwardly in his seat. Slightly discomfited by the stare, Harry decided to take a seat closer to the front of the bus where an older lady sat primly, legs crossed and with a slight sneer to her surroundings. She was obviously unused to taking public transport.

Shortly after sitting down the bus started with a great splutter and lurch. It was no smooth ride but not a deadly as the knight bus and for that Harry was glad. He had nervous butterflies swarming his abdomen as he realised with a start that he was actually going to meet someone who could contact the Winchesters and tell them he was family.

A sudden cold feeling hit him. The Winchesters had been memory charmed after he was born; there was no way they would remember him! And how could he convince them that he was family? Sure, there were paternity tests but they would remember having a child and the sort of questions it would raise would truly make John seem awful. He was about three years younger than Dean Winchester, the other child in the photo. It was also to his understanding that after Harry had been kidnapped away from his parents they had decided to have another child whom they called Samuel.

Harrys' existence implied that John had been cheating on his wife, because she definitely couldn't have hidden a whole pregnancy, and to Harry that was unacceptable. He had a bad feeling about this.

One eighteen-hour bus journey later and Harry was hesitantly stepping out of the vehicle. On the bus, there had been around four others who stepped off with him including the shifty-eyed man who gave Harry the creeps.

Taking no notice of the man, Harry concerned himself with finding a way to Singer auto-salvage yard and, thus completely missed the fact he was being followed. Harry determined that the Yard was around 10 miles away so, rather than spending more of his money, he decided it would be best to walk the distance. This also gave him time to concoct a plan on how to get himself believed by the man and, later on, if all goes well, his brothers and father.

It would be ever so easy if Harry could just tell them that he was a wizard but breaking the statue of secrecy would definitely get him in trouble; not to mention that there was a very minute possibility that his father was a hunter. It was very subtle; anyone who wasn't looking directly for it would never see the little mentions in newspapers of rogue "FBI members" burning bodies and connect it to John Winchester but everywhere Harry found mention of him, he found odd circumstance. They could be like him, extremely unlucky but at the same time lucky enough not to get too injured or die.

Harry was brought out of his musings by a loud scuffing of a shoe against pavement behind him. He had been walking for about an hour by this time and so was in a fairly isolated area as he followed a little, free tourist map he had been able to nab from the bus station.  
He pivoted sharply on his heel, ready to face anything. He hadn't expected to come face-to-face with the creepy man from the bus. He least expected what came next.  
"Well, isn't this interesting. What is a small child like yourself doing roaming America?" The creep sidled closer. Harry tried to back away but found he couldn't move.

"Tut, tut, tut, didn't your mummy ever teach you that it's rude not to reply when someone's talking to you?" The creep purred, using Harry's paralysis to his advantage and ran his hands over the still boy.  
Harry's breath hitched, uncomfortable at the attention he was receiving and terrified at being unable to move away. He was unable to comprehend what was happening and was even more confused when the man's eyes turned black.  
An odd niggle of _something_ poked at _him._ The creatures face, for it couldn't be human, scrunched up in a mix of pain and concentration and Harry felt the presence get stronger. As much as he fought against the odd intrusion he knew he was too weak and the creature seemed to sense his wavering strength as the niggling increased to a blinding pain and Harry knew no more.


	3. Meeting a friend

So, it's been a while. Sorry for the late update. I can't promise that it won't happen again. This chapter didn't want to be written. :/ I'm still looking for a Beta if anyone's interested. I'm a Brit so I think I'll need someone to help me with general American knowledge. XD Enjoy!

* * *

Harry was floating. It was a strange, other-worldly feeling of not being in control of his body; as if he weighed less than a feather and had no problems. It would have been easy to stay in this state of consciousness if only he hadn't come to his senses.

Starting wildly, the boy quickly noticed he couldn't move, not in a paralysed kind of way but instead feeling as if he shouldn't be able to move. Slowly, he opened his emerald orbs to see…nothing. He was alone in a dark room. It was so dark he couldn't see his body, if indeed he had one. It was almost as if he was trapped in his mind- as odd as that sounded.

He felt movement as if he were a passenger on some rocky boat ride but could find no cause for such a thing… then he remembered.

A figure, a man, speaking to him. Pain worse than he had ever felt even with his connection to Voldemort. His head had felt like it was literally splitting in two as a dark cloud entered through his mouth.

Panicked now, the young teenager tried, desperately, to move, to do something. He pushed on the oppressive black force shrouding his very being. It got lighter and lighter, filling him with hope. Eventually, it was so bright Harry could no longer look directly at it. Still, he continued to push, straining his very mind until there was a flash and he could see the world again.

The presence was now the one straining at the back of Harry's mind and Harry knew it wouldn't be long until he forced away again.

Desperately he looked round for help. Luckily for him, he wasn't far from people. Alone in an alley way outside the back of some building that was possibly a diner, Harry felt hope rising within. There was a possibility, minute as it was, that a hunter could be around to help him.

Clambering to his feet unsteadily (for he had fallen over during the internal struggle.), the small 15-year-old tried to stumble his way to the exit of the alley. Still fighting against the dark presence, he finally made it to the end and was just about to leave the alley when a sudden thought struck him.

He didn't know where he was, what his body had been doing nor how he looked. How could he expect anyone to listen to him if he looked deranged, spouting off about some sort of supernatural creature that he couldn't even name?

He would have to do this subtly. Better yet he could fix himself if he could get back to where he'd left his luggage. He'd been pulling his suitcase alongside him on the way to Singer's auto-salvage yard. Unfortunately, that would require him to know where he was now and how long it would take to get back to his luggage if it was even still there.

He was certain that the book, the one from the goblins, would have some sort of explanation for his current state.

A painful pulse reverberated down Harry, forcing him back on to his knees. He was losing control!

He heard a shocked gasp in front of him. He looked up and, in his panic, lost out against the internal struggle. Just before he lost consciousness, he thought he saw an older man with a beard carrying a gun.

This time was a little different. Rather than the dense darkness from before, Harry could see the outside world but was unable to stop anything.

The man that he had seen before he lost the battle was in front of him, brandishing a small bottle of water. Oddly enough, this seemed to have some sort of effect on the creature as he felt a wave of trepidation roll over him that certainly wasn't his.

The man opened the bottle and splashed him with the water inside. And, God, was it painful.

The creature screeched loudly and Harry was hard pressed not to pass out from the pain, he could see why the creature had seemed wary of the water.

Seemingly giving up on possessing Harry, the creature left in a burst of black smoke leaving Harry sprawled out on the floor panting in exertion and in pain. He felt that he was still burning from the inside out.

The pain lessened slowly as Harry caught his breath and trying to stand up.

Before he could so much as lift himself from the ground he was stopped. Large, warm hands pushed gently against his shoulders, keeping him laying on the ground.

"Give it a moment, ya idjit," The man's voice commanded in a quiet tone. "I expect you're in quite a bit of pain."

At that very accurate assessment, Harry stilled his attempts to stand. He instinctively knew that this man wouldn't hurt him, despite his gruff appearance.

Looking closer at the man, Harry could see the man had deep blue eyes and brownish hair that was greying at the edges. He seemed to be about mid-fifties and had a small beard. On any other day, Harry would have been intimidated by this man- still was. After what this man had just done to the creature that had chosen to reside in Harry, he could tell that this man was dangerous but, for some reason, he didn't scare the short brunet.

"W-what was that thing?" Harry finally managed to stammer out between pants. It bugged him that he didn't even know what that _thing_ was; he needed to be able to protect himself if this was a common occurrence in America.

The man looked down at his face for a moment, scrutinising him carefully.

"Kid, you got a family?" This non-sequitur caught Harry off-guard for a moment before he realised what he had been asked. At this point, Harry would happily tell this man his life story if he got answers in return.

"Apparently. It's why I came to America, you see."

This time the man looked at him thoughtfully. He must have finally come to a conclusion because he started talking again.

"That, boy, was a demon."

The man stared at him, calculating. Harry stared back.

"A demon?" Harry clarified.

The man just nodded and seemed somewhat confused at his easy acceptance of such creatures even existing.

"You aren't going to even question it?" The man asked, seemingly flummoxed. Harry just shrugged, "Well it would explain that whole being possessed thing that just happened so yeah, I believe you."

"So… what happens now?" Harry asked awkwardly. How does one express their gratitude at being saved from a demon possession of all things? He didn't want to seem ungrateful but there's the fact that he still needed to track Singer down and find his family. But first, he needed his luggage so he can't really hang around too long.

"Well, boy. First, we need to get ya sorted," He said, glancing at Dudley's hand-me-downs. "Then I guess you need to find that wayward family of yours."

Harry flushed, it honestly wasn't his fault, well… He could have bought some new clothes but he really hadn't wanted to stick around England.

"First, could you actually tell me where I am?" Harry hedged awkwardly. He certainly didn't recognise this area and somehow, he did have to get back to his suitcase to get his money.

Having finally gained his breath back and feeling better, he attempted to sit up once more. He felt exposed and vulnerable laying on his back in front of this stranger.

Arms shaking, he manoeuvred himself into a sitting position and winced at the pain this action caused.

The stranger looked down at him, concerned once more. "Well, you're in Sioux Falls- quite close to where I live actually. I'm going to need to take you there to patch you up a bit- I think."

"Sioux Falls?" The young teen excitedly exclaimed- he hadn't gone off-course just yet. There was even a chance that he could be near Singer's place. "Tell me, do you know of a place called 'Singer's auto-salvage'?"

So caught up in happiness, Harry failed to see the man tense, clearly uncomfortable. He coughed slightly. "What business do you have there? You seem a bit young to need a car."

Harry giggled before stopping himself, realising he sounded like a pre-pubescent girl. "Ah, I believe the owner, a Robert Singer, might know my Dad."

The stranger looked a bit cautious. "Do you know your daddy's name?" He seemed rather concerned for some reason.

"Um, yeah. Apparently, his name is John, John Winchester."

Sighing heavily, the man just stared at the child in front of him.

"Hi, I'm Bobby. Robert Singer. I do know your daddy. And his two sons that are probably around your age. I know that he loved his wife, he wouldn't have cheated. So the question remains, who are you?


	4. To Bobby's!

**A/N:**

 **So... I guess this is a little late. I honestly wanted to update this story long before now but I guess that's life. I'll try harder next time! Also, I'm totally freaking out! Almost 300 people are following this story! Thank you all so much. :3**

* * *

Perturbed by the man's sudden demeanour change, Harry flinched away from the man. He seemed angry- really angry.

His flinch, unfortunately, jarred his injuries which had been exacerbated by the demon possession and, in too much pain, Harry collapsed back down to the ground whimpering pathetically.

Bobby seemed to remember his injuries and sighed before carefully lifting Harry up from the ground, intent on taking him to his truck to take him home.

Harry squirmed in his arms for all of two seconds before he realised through his pain-hazed mind what was happening and he stilled, exhausted.

Lacking the energy to even insist that he walk himself, Harry settled for being carried like an infant and relaxed minutely in the burly man's arms. It didn't take long until the two had made their way to Bobby's pickup and Harry was loaded gently in the passenger seat and soon they were on their way, presumably to Singer's Auto-salvage.

It hadn't taken long to arrive at Bobby's home, thank god. The journey had been so silent and awkward; Harry hadn't known what to do! Silence had permeated the awkward atmosphere but it had given Harry time to think about what he was going to say. If Bobby was a hunter then it was likely that he would just kill Harry if he came clean about his magic. At the same time, Harry didn't really want to mislead the man who had saved him from a demon possession and was about to heal his injuries. He had decided to just go with the flow and worry later.

The only time the silence was broken was when Bobby had asked Harry if he had any luggage with him. Responding in the positive and explaining that the demon had left it behind, Harry was shocked when the gruff man went out of his way to pick up the small-ish suitcase.

After arriving at the auto-salvage, Harry's suitcase had been unloaded and taken inside while Harry waited patiently in the car. After about five minutes of waiting, Harry got bored and decided that the man must want him to go inside by himself so, despite the pain, Harry clumsily opened the truck door and tried to step out. Unfortunately, the truck was too high up to just step out. On any other day Harry wouldn't have hesitated to simply jump down but as it was, it was too painful.

Luckily for him, just as he was about to risk more pain and jump out, Bobby reappeared holding a small shot glass and a heavy looking crowbar.

"Drink this." The man said gruffly, holding the shot glass for Harry to take. Unwilling to make an enemy of this man, Harry did as instructed and grimaced at the odd tasting water. Next, the man had him hold the crowbar for a reason that Harry couldn't quite comprehend.

Seemingly satisfied, he lifted Harry from the truck with an annoying amount of ease. Standing at a meagre 5"1" and weighing less than 6 stone, he was hardly a force to be reckoned with. It annoyed him really- everyone always drew attention to the petite hero.

His first thoughts of Bobby's house were 'Dirty' and 'book-filled.' It was almost as if the man owned a library rather than an auto-salvage though Harry was sure it was the latter due to the sheer amount of rusting metal piles he had glimpsed on the way in.

* * *

Bobby was in out of his depth. He had gone out for a beer and returned with his "friend's" wayward spawn; he hadn't expected this at all. To make matters worse the child was injured quite badly. Most concerning was the week-old bruise the marred the boy's face. The demon couldn't have made the injury and the sheer number of old scars hinted at an unsavoury home life at best.

The boy himself couldn't have been more than thirteen years old and his accent spoke of British origins. If he had estimated the age right, then this boy was younger than Sam- Mary couldn't have been his mother, however, a niggling feeling up his spine told him better. He had seen pictures of Mary and the boy was almost a perfect likeness to her.

Having already checked the boy for being a shape shifter or werewolf, silver crowbar, and having checked the demon had been fully expelled, holy water, Bobby was satisfied the boy wasn't currently harmful to him though he sighed in relief when the boy made it over the salt line with no problem.

Dumping the boy down on his sofa, Bobby made a quick trip to his kitchen which held all his first-aid equipment. John would surely kill him if this boy was truly his child and he hadn't healed him up as soon as possible. John had his flaws but he cared about his family.

"So, boy," The gruff man started, making a note of the slight flinch the boy gave at the appellation, "Where are you hurt?"

A pensive expression overtook the child's face, ageing him slightly.

"And while we're at it, what's your name kid?"

The boy seemed unsure for a moment before steeling himself, "My name is Harry." The boy stated simply, "Um…All over I guess."

Concerned, the gruff man leant forward from where he had seated himself in front of Harry, noting when the child flinched and almost cowered away from him. It was rather worrying that the child seemed this wary.

"Well then, Harry, how old are you? I need to know so I can estimate the amount of medicine I can give you." And to see if john cheated was left unsaid.

"Erm…" The boy mumbled, face down and going red.

"Sorry kid didn't quite hear you." Bobby coaxed.

The boy- Harry he reminded himself- sighed. "I'm fifteen, almost sixteen.

Bobby gasped- the kid could be Mary's and boy was he small. Were all Brits like this or had it been a result of poor eating habits? Neither John nor Mary were small as adults from what he could tell. Dean and Sam were a lot larger than this kid who must have been the middle child.

Regaining his composure, Bobby continued gaining his information while subtly sorting out his first aid kit for use.

"So… how come's your daddy never told me about you then." He was desperate to find out before he called John. If this was a false alert or a trap, both of which seemed unlikely, he didn't want to bring John into this. The man already had two teens to look after.

The infuriating child simply shrugged. "Well, I didn't know until a few days ago myself. It's a long story. Tell me, do you believe in magic?"

The next hour passed mind-bogglingly quick. Bobby was left feeling slightly overwhelmed by the wealth of information the kid had. He was a treasure trove of intel.

Witches and wizards. Natural-bornes. He had known about their existence but with their secretive nature he had never been able to find out much about them- until now that is.

The story the boy had spun seemed impossible but it had been told with so much fervour and emotion that he had a hard time questioning it. He didn't trust the boy much but it was obvious that he wasn't lying. It left a sour feeling on his tongue. If he was to be believed then this boy had lived through hell then had found that the people he had always wanted to meet, the people he had admired, had been low-life scum that kidnapped children.

One thing was sure, John wouldn't believe this. Oh, the man knew about the existence of natural-bornes but to be spelled into forgetting your own child? Incomprehensible.

The next shock came when Bobby had started to tend to the teenager's injuries. He'd had the boy strip leaving his underwear on for modesties sake. He almost wished he hadn't. Numerous laceration dotted and defaced the youths back. His torso had been one big bruise of varying shades. The most startling discovery were the cracked ribs. Harry had been lucky they hadn't simply broken when he had fought against the demon.

Unfortunately, Harry had been curiously tight-lipped about the whole thing so Bobby had been unable to find out who had done this. From the brunet's story, he lived with his aunt and uncle. That part had mostly been skated over much to his despair. His gut was telling him that most of these injuries weren't caused by a brief stint as a meat-suit.

After applying topical solution after topical solution and shoving a cocktail of pills down the emerald-eyed boy's throat, Bobby Singer was officially satisfied. It would be a while until he was completely healed but at least the boy wasn't in any immediate danger- yet.

Next on the agenda was to contact John Winchester. Not only was this an almost impossible feat but he would also have to persuade John into visiting and not killing his own blood unknowingly.


	5. Sorry

Hi everyone,

I never wanted to write one of these but you deserve to know.

It will be a while before I update again because last night, at around quarter to nine, my mum passed away.

It was sudden and it will take a while to get over it. I am so sorry but I will come back to this fic. I promise.


	6. I'm alive!

**A/N:**

 **Well, it's been a long and hard six months but I decided it's time to continue on with life. :)**

 **Firstly, I would like to thank every single person who has reviewed/sent PM's for the support. In mindblowing how many of you took time to ask how I was or offer advice and I'm so lucky to be a part of this amazing fanbase. 3 I could not have done this without you guys!**

 **Next, I'm so sorry for how long it's been since this was updated. Incomplete stories kill me so I will definitely NOT abandon this story!**

 **Finally, any suggestions for the future of this story? Also, I'm still looking for a Beta/ someone to fact check and Americanise this story. I know I'm going to make so many mistakes hahaha.**

 **Well then, enjoy the story!**

* * *

Having sent the boy to sleep in the spare room usually reserved for the occasional visit from the Winchester brothers, Bobby let himself relax as he pondered his next steps.

He would need to tell John, there was no way he could ever hope to keep this from him; the Winchesters were always known for getting caught up in everything. No, he decided, it would be better if he could explain this _phenomenon_ to John himself. But first, he needed sleep.

Morning came far too quickly from the rough man's liking, bringing with it a pit of dread that settled deep into the older hunter's stomach. Deducing from the lack of noise that Harry was still asleep, he decided it would be better to contact John now. Bobby dressed and showered quickly, no point stalling, before walking downstairs to where he kept his stash of phones.

Locating the correct phone where he had the Winchester's number was a difficult task. He rarely used the small black flip phone except when John called to ask him to take the boys when they were too ill for the regular motel dump.

Luckily the older phone had plenty of battery to make the call because at this point he would have done anything to try and impede the coming conversation.

He pressed the call button and waited...1…2…3 rings before the phone was answered and John's voice rang out from the speaker, "Singer? Bit odd to get a call from you."

"Ah, Winchester, on a case?" Bobby questioned, hoping he was indeed on a case and too busy. It was unreasonable but he was honestly not looking forward to the man's reaction to his surprise son who just so happened to have his own brand of hoodoo.

"Just finished one actually. One more nasty ghost outta the way." The younger hunter crowed with delight, obviously in a celebratory mood which made Bobby feel twice as awkward for having to do this. "So, what did you want?"

Steeling himself, Bobby pressed forward. "Well, I got a young boy here. Looks like another Winchester to me…" He trailed off, "Erm… Perhaps it would be for the best if you could make a quick stop here?"

Silence. Then,

"What the fuck are you on about, Singer?" Anger. Honestly, he couldn't blame the man, it was probably the last thing he had expected to hear when he picked up the phone that morning.

Still, he hated it when people spoke to him like that. "Get your ass here and let's discuss this like normal people!" The gruff man demanded.

"Give me three hours- "and the call was cut off.

Feeling relieved now that was over, Bobby let his mind drift to figure out what he had to do next. He would need to change the boy's bandages and feed him before his father got here and perhaps a warning would not go amiss.

Filled with purpose, the man stood up and slowly made his way to the guest bedroom where his half-pint problem slept on peacefully but not for long.

He approached the bed where the boy lay curled up like a kitten beneath the bed sheets. It was almost a shame to have to awaken the petite child. For some reason, Bobby felt the need to simply wrap the child up in cotton wool and protect him, it was rather strange.

Nevertheless, he went to gently shake the child awake. At the first touch, the boy tensed but slept on. Sighing, Bobby shook the child again which evoked a more violent response- he was flung backwards, hitting a wall and grunting in pain.

The child shot up in his borrowed up and looked around wildly for his imaginary assailant. It didn't take him long to notice Bobby who was still laying, dazed, on the floor. Immediately he started to freak out.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Have I hurt you? I'm so sor-"Bobby cut him off before the child could wind himself up too far.

"'m alright." Bobby stood and gathered his bearings. "Look," he hesitated, "I talked to John this morning. He's going to be here in about 3 hours. Breakfast is ready. He said and left the room, showing that Harry should follow him.

In the daylight, the house seemed to be in even worse shape than the night before. It would certainly not be staying in this state if Harry had any say! He was reluctant to bring the older man's ire on to him but, depending on how long he would have to stay here, the mess would have to be cleared up.

Bobby had ended up leading him through to what seemed to be the kitchen. He hadn't seen this room last night and was rather glad as the amount of mess would have had him run screaming.

"Sit down, I'll get your breakfast. You need feeding up." The gruff man seemed, particularly off today. Harry wondered if he hadn't been able to sleep well. He was probably stressed, after all, it wasn't every day you had to tell our friend he had another son. All of a sudden Harry felt rather bad for springing this all on Bobby.

So caught up in his musings Harry had failed to notice the bowl of porridge placed in front of him complete with a bowl of sugar.

"Harry? Kid, You there?" Harry was interrupted from his ponderings by a voice of concern.

"Oh sorry. Thank you for the food, Mr Singer!" Harry chirped. He had been so hungry as he hadn't eaten since before he had been possessed and, if he was honest, he was still feeling quite weak from his time with the Dursleys."

"No need to thank me, kid," Bobby said with a touch of awkwardness. "Jus' call me Bobby like everyone else."

Harry smiled. "Okay, Bobby!" Although he felt bad for intruding on the kind man, he couldn't be more looked after. The medicines from last night and his naturally fast healing meant that he was feeling much better this morning plus, he had food!

"After you finish eating go and take a shower. The bathroom is next to the room you slept in last night."

And with that Bobby was gone, probably preparing for John Winchester's visit.

Hurrying up, the teenager finished his food and went to take his shower.

* * *

15 minutes later and freshly cleaned Harry Potter exited out of the bathroom. He was wearing one of the nicer hand-me-downs he had received from Dudley. A nice, virtually unworn top that had been quickly discarded when Piers, Dudley's friend, had been spotted wearing the same top. Harry had been able to filch it out of the bin and then hidden it from Petunia.

He still had a good two and a half hours before John (My dad! Harry inwardly exclaimed.) was due to arrive and the nerves were starting to set in.

What if John didn't believe him? Worse yet, what if he just didn't care? The trip had been so impulsive, based on what could be little more than fiction. The Goblins could have been wrong.

It was only as Harry contemplated the hurried departure that he realised this could have easily been Voldemort's plan to get Harry out of the way. But, if that was the case, wouldn't he have just disguised himself?

Harry took a gulp of breath only now realising that he had ceased to breathe in his panic. The Goblins were known for their neutrality in wizarding affairs so it was rather unlikely that Voldemort had orchestrated the entire affair. In addition to this, Harry's scar had not pained him in the least. It was as if Voldemort was laying low.

Probably trying to get ahold of the prophecy, Harry mused, idly.

Wait, the prophecy! _born to those who have thrice defied him._ He couldn't possibly be the chosen one- could he? This would bear thinking about.

Feeling weak after his revelations, Harry quietly made his way back downstairs to track down Bobby and ask what he should do in the remaining time before John arrived.

Finding Bobby had been the easy part however, the man was very clearly deep into whatever book he was reading. The title must have been in a different language or something because Harry couldn't make heads or tails of it! If he had to guess then he would say it was Chinese or Japanese. Nevertheless, he had been unable to rouse the gruff man from his book so Harry decided to take the initiative and clear up a bit.

His bowl was still on the table from breakfast so he decided to tackle that first, his plan: start with the small things and the big things will fall in to place.

Humming to himself, Harry made quick work of the washing up having only taken a few minutes to track down the necessary materials he would need.

Washing up seemed to be the only form of cleaning that Bobby had undertaken in at least the last few months. He was sure that the books were left in a position where they could easily be found so Harry decided not to move any books however this didn't prevent him from dusting away. He had, of course, been careful with the older-looking books. Years of listening to Hermione in the library had taught him a lot after all.

Books were one of the few things that didn't take well to preservation charms and as a result, he had learnt to take very good care of the books within the library and these were no different.

He had gotten so caught up in his task that he failed to notice he was being watched by an amused Bobby Singer.

" My house not clean enough for your taste?" He suddenly interjected into the happy humming. The results were instantaneous. The teenager startled so bad that he dropped the feather duster and ducked, shielding his head.

"Woah there! Calm down." Bobby soothed. He hadn't meant to startle the child and it concerned him how easily he had scared- he didn't seem as though he would last long as a hunter.

Embarrassed, Harry flushed a deep crimson and stepped backwards and out of reach.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, sir." Harry timidly spoke, reverting back to his previous moniker for the man. He had gotten a bit carried away with his cleaning and now he had upset Bobby. What if Bobby decided to kick him out before John arrived?

Luckily he wasn't kicked out but he had been told to rest, "You'll need it." The man had said ominously after he had managed to calm Harry down.

If all honesty, Harry wasn't quite sure why he had been so scared. The man bore no resemblance to Vernon Dursley and he hadn't had any issues when Snape had yelled, belittled and insulted him through every single potions class he'd had for the last 5 years.

'I'm probably just still a bit jumpy from that possession yesterday.' He reasoned with himself as he sat alone on a sofa that had seen better days.

* * *

John Winchester was feeling very torn. His old friend [read: childminder] had just rung him and implied that he had, in his possession, a child that was his.

He was sure that Bobby had been replaced with a shapeshifter who was luring him in but he had no choice. If a shapeshifter had gotten hold of Bobby then he would have to lend a hand. This was not out of concern for a friend but more about protecting his source of information- or so he told himself. There was absolutely no way that he was going soft and getting concerned over his "friends".

The Impala was packed and Sam and Dean were blearily rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. He had allowed them to sleep in- just this once- after the latest hunt. It had gone quite well but Dean had been a bit bashed up by the ghost and, as a result, was covered in several prominent bruises. It was a good thing they were leaving town today as he was sure he would have child protective services on his ass if Dean showed up to school with yet more bruises.

It didn't take long to reach Bobby's house. They had made good time and had made it before the 3-hour mark. At first glance, nothing seemed amiss but John knew that first impressions could be deceiving.


End file.
